


Grading on a Curve

by BakerBitches



Series: Meet Me After Class [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coercion, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unilock, University, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerBitches/pseuds/BakerBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson, despite being a grade A student, is failing Professor Holmes' class. The professor has an idea to help John pass- private lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grading on a Curve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tumblr User: MichellePopsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tumblr+User%3A+MichellePopsicle).



“Mr. Watson,” Professor Holmes called for the fourth time in the last hour. “What happens to tissues if they do not receive enough hemoglobin?”

 

John knew the answer, as he did the four times before; he was excellent at remembering and reciting medical terms. “The tissues either die or function incorrectly.”

 

“Wrong,” Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned forward, palms facing downward on the desk “Maybe you should see me after class since every time I have called on you in just this session, you have not been able to answer me appropriately.” A few titters came from the elevated lecture seats behind John.

 

“ _Sir_ ,” John ground out almost maliciously. “I’m not sure how you’ve missed it, but I _have_ answered ‘appropriately.’”

 

“No, you have not, Mr.Watson,” he responded wryly. “The answer was that they do not take in oxygen and _then_ they die. There is no point in attempting to become a doctor or physician or whatever it is you hope to be if you cannot explain simple processes such as these. Meet with me after class today so we can discuss having you removed from my course.”

 

John did his best not to say a word for the remainder of the session. He was _angry_. Heat rose up his chest and face, leaving him a sweating mess squirming in his seat. The professor did that to him. John was never left alone for a single minute during the lectures because Holmes always had a snide remark to make about his ‘incompetence.’ He was rude most of the time, but he wasn’t like that with any of the other students, and it was absolutely embarrassing for the aspiring doctor to be picked on constantly for not giving the most specific answer or for using a blue pen instead of black (Holmes hated blue ink) or just for _sitting_ in a way that seemingly irritated the instructor. Of course, John couldn’t read minds, so one-hundred percent of the time spent in the man’s presence, he was left clueless as to what was actually expected of him. The period was over and John stayed put in his seat directly across from the professor's desk and watched as everyone else filed through the door, sending him fleeting looks of sympathy.

 

“Close the door,” Sherlock commanded to the last girl leaving the room without even looking up from his computer screen. When the quiet yet deafening click came, he spoke again. “Before I was your age, I already had my teaching license. Now, here I sit, running a class for individuals who are, for the most part, older than myself. You’re what? Twenty-three?” A wave was dismissed in his direction, and the man was still looking at his screen without a single emotion to be read on his face. “You’re inadequate, Mr. Watson. How _do_ your teachers put up with it?” He finally looked over to the row of seats and scoffed. “That was rhetorical, if you weren’t aware.”

 

“Why do you target me.” John asked plainly and bluntly, getting straight to the point.

 

“Excuse me?” The professor paused, giving John an amused glance.

 

“You _target_ me,” John spat, already done with the conversation. Professor Holmes sat with a blank look, his mouth slightly agape. “and don’t try to tell me you don’t, because I am the only one in this class you get so upsetwith. Threatening to remove me from your course? Over answers that would have been acceptable with another pupil?”

 

“Because I like you, and it pains me to see you not doing your best,” Sherlock sniffed, turning towards his computer again, though his eyes were not scanning it. John had the suspicion that he looked away out of awkwardness. “If you don’t improve by next class-”

 

“How?” John nearly shouted. “How do you expect me to do that? I am doing my best as is! Besides, I’m sure any other teacher would be glad to have me; I don’t have to put up with this abuse, you know.”

 

With that, Sherlock stood quickly, coming to the front of the desk and slamming his hands on John’s belongings; he didn’t so much as flinch at the aggressive action.

 

“Oh but you will, Mr.Watson. I have substantial influence in this university both inside and outside the Medical Faculty.”

 

“I will _not_ be bullied, _Professor_.” John snapped, irritation entering him at the realization that if he tried to take another class, he would be taken out against his will. Besides, Holmes’ course was the one he wanted to take; it was both challenging and interesting. The professor being a twat, however, was entirely an unpleasant circumstance, one that John wasn’t going to yield to. John had a backbone and was prepared to use it.

 

“You can either improve in my class or go to another university where they will accept you.” He proposed.

 

John took a breath to steady himself. “What do you suggest, then? What would please you?”

 

A smirk flashed across the standing man’s face and he leaned further forward. John started to feel uncomfortable by the closeness and fidgeted in his low seat, pulling his elbows off the table and tilting into his chair. Slowly, Holmes slid the bag across the desk and crawled on top of it with equal speed, lifting one knee at the time and keeping eye contact with his student. John’s eyes continued to widen in surprise.

 

“Wha-”

 

Sherlock knelt on the desk with a brisk movement, startling John even further. “You could _please me_ ,” he hissed, calmly tugging at his belt. “By pleasing me.”

 

John stared wide eyed at the man pulling his dick out in front of him, licking his lips. “Are you really implying that-” he was silenced when Holmes took his jaw and squeezed it open, pushing forcefully at the cheeks to concave them. John froze and yielded to the finger that found its way past his lips, pressing down and backward on his tongue. The room was silent save for the quiet suction sound from John’s mouth. Sherlock bent to level their eyes, hand still squeezing at the jaw. John looked him with mild panic in his eyes, and Holmes leaned to the side to rumble into his ear with a deliciously low baritone.

 

“I am doing much more than implying, Mr.Watson.” The loaded words rolled around in John’s head, leaving him to wonder if he wanted to agree with the situation Professor Holmes had placed him in and comply with what was being (both figuratively and metaphorically) thrown in his direction. Teeth nipped at his ear and a tongue traced the behind it, and he instantly moaned, closing his eyes. His head was swimming with thoughts he didn’t even know he had until that moment and whether he would regret it afterwards or not, John let himself succomb to the entire situation  His lips were still parted when Holmes straightened himself and thrust his eager erection right into John's open mouth.

 

John tried to pull back to speak, but was stopped. “Do as I say, or you will be taken off my roster. Do you understand?” John stopped struggling and after a moment began to slowly bob his head, making sure to keep the pace agonizingly slow. “We have come to an agreement, then?” Holmes muttered, barely surpressing a moan. John gazed upwards and hollowed his cheeks in response, making the length in his mouth twitch with want. Holmes bucked his hips forward, causing John to gag. A smug look crept across Holmes’ face at the noise and he almost let out a low chuckle; he didn't realize that the student only choked because he was not prepared for more. The smugness was quickly replaced with lust as John took in his entire length. John grasped the bony hips on front of him and swallowed once before pulling off momentarily and scooting his chair closer to the desk. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and yanked down the trousers and pants that sat on Holmes’ hips. He grasped the professor’s sex and licked upwards slowly from base to tip, then circled the head. Staring into the multi coloured eyes as he went, John slowly ran his tongue along the length of Holmes’ cock until he reached the bottom. He then traced down and lapped at the sensitive sac with slow, flat strokes of his tongue.

 

“Suck... My cock. _Now_.” the instructor demanded, his voice a sensual vibration. John did as he was told, taking the entire length right to the lowest portion. Pulling back slightly, he flicked his tongue over the tip of Holmes’ now painfully hard prick, enticing an animalistic growl. Holmes commanded “More.” and again, John obeyed. As the professor's eager cock was thrust in and pulled out at an increasing pace, John realized that his face was being fucked and adjusted his mouth to suck on Holmes all the way out and lick at any piece he could get to before being pushed in. John slowly crept his hands under the dress shirt that Sherlock stripped down to (due to the heat of the room) and flicked his thumbs over the nubs of flesh on his lean chest. The instructor pounded faster and harder into the pupils mouth and threw his head back, leaving John to choke on the throbbing erection. A blessing to him, the professor stopped his relentless tyraid and panted out another command.

 

“F-” he stuttered, gripping the blonde locks tighter. “Finish me.”

 

John licked away the strand of spit hanging from the head of the aching cock in front of him and grabbed the shaft with one hand. He tugged quickly and grazed his tongue over the tip in time with the strokes. The man above him tensed, shuddered, and then came over his face with a low moan.

 

Breathlessly, Sherlock  looked down at John, “Get cleaned up. You may remain in my class provided you continue these ‘private sessions’; I’m sure they will prove helpful to your grade.”

 

John leaned back and plucked a tissue from the small package in the front pocket of his bag and dabbed at his face. The professor clambered off the desk, pulling at his trousers and clasping his belt into place.

 

“So how will we do this, then?”

 

“I will schedule our sessions and will notify you a day in advance.” he answered back casually, returning to his desk and typing away at his keyboard.

 

Awkwardly, John stood and exited through the door, making the decision to skip lunch and sneaking off to an empty mens room to take care of the throbbing bulge in his pants.

 

John found himself letting his imagination get the better of him as he relieved himself. Professor Holmes did have the perfect “Cupid’s Bow” lips, and John always did have a thing for danger.

  
Perhaps these private lessons would prove themselves to be interesting after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Users who worked on this:  
> ThisChickIsOffTopic  
> Tumblr User: CumberMySpock


End file.
